Z= Unorthodox World of Mister Glass

Unorthodox world of Mister Glass

My first memory of my Uncle Eric is of him noisily eating a crab, the
next of him allowing me to fly in his back garden.

We were on holiday in Devon. My Grandma lived with Uncle Eric. Of
course, Eric Glass wasn't an Uncle at all, but he wasn't my grandfather
either.

He wore a small hat and glasses like me. He seemed proud of his, they
were huge, with lenses that like car windows. You wouldn't say his face
was fat, but it was round, like a big ball.

One day we walked along the seafront. The air smelled so salty here I
kept thinking I could clench my fists and catch white crystals in my
palms. Then Uncle Eric stopped at a stall to buy a crab. He said he
loved crab. I had never seen anyone eat a crab in my entire life. Mum
told me off for staring. The shell was muddy orange, speckled white.
Eric snapped off the legs one by one and pulled out the tender meat,
eating with relish and smacking his lips.

The next day, my mother and grandmother went shopping. Dad was watching
Grandstand on television, so Uncle Eric entertained me.

We went out to the back garden. Uncle Eric said "Should I show you some
real magic? Would you like to fly?" Of course I agreed with enthusiasm.
He made me fly about three feet above the ground - it wasn't quite what
I'd imagined; I didn't zip past ducks or fly through clouds, but it was
still great, right up to the point where I misjudged a turn and scraped
my knee on the apple tree. I was only seven and I cried. Dad came out
to see what had happened. I was about to tell him but Uncle Eric put a
finger to his lips, so I told him I had fallen playing football.

By the time I was eleven, I was quite used to seeing Uncle Eric on
television. You may have seen him too. 'Mister Glass and his Unusual
World'. It was a magic show and for a time, he was in the holy trinity
of Erics in my mind: Morecambe, Sykes and Glass. All three were adored
in my house.

What I liked is that he always stuck to his principles. If he was asked
how a trick worked, he always replied 'By magic, of course'. Other
people did 'tricks'; Eric Glass did magic, and was offended if people
thought otherwise (but in a very polite way).

Mister Glass' events were in a different league. Most magicians use
doves for good reasons. Doves are white and pretty; they're not
frightening - they're small and docile. What's more, they fold up
easily to hide away. But Mister Glass never used doves - he used
ravens! Huge, black ravens that glowered at the audience and looked
thoroughly uncooperative, as if hating every moment.
And Mister Glass wouldn't take rabbits from his hat! Instead, he
produced a large dog which was obviously far bigger than his hat could
ever hold.

"Impossible!" People would say. And Mister Glass replied "Magic is
about the impossible, not the difficult."

I knew it wasn't magic. When I was seven, I was dosed up on the
'Faraway Tree' and wardrobes that led to snowy worlds. I knew the world
wasn't really full of magic, but I thought there were corners where it
might still be found. By eleven, I'd stopped believing in almost
everything. I knew I hadn't really flown in that garden, though it felt
that way at the time. Eric probably held me round the waist and twirled
me round - as easy as that! But I was just a kid then and wanted to
believe.

It was still fun to watch my Uncle Eric on television though. He was
very good, if a little old-fashioned now. It was like being related to
Dr Who.

On one show, he explained to the audience how cheap tricksters hid
things in their clothes. Then he did the whole show naked, except for a
towel wrapped round his waist. The hair on his body was white and wiry
and he wasn't in good shape and I saw red marks where his socks were
too tight. But that didn't matter, because he was producing coloured
flags and vases of flowers from his armpit, where there was nowhere to
hide them.

Although it made his shows less appealing, he never used dancing girls
or puffs of smoke to distract the audience. One show, he even invited
members of the public and two well-known magicians to sit behind him on
the stage and observe. To this day, the two magicians swear they had no
idea how he performed his tricks. Perhaps the Magic Circle just sticks
together.

Eric's most memorable illusion was 'The Birthday Cake'. At the start of
a show, he produced all the ingredients out of thin air: flour, eggs,
sugar and dark chocolate. Then he invited two people up onto stage, and
left them to mix and bake the cake to the recipe provided, all in full
sight of the viewers, as he did his act. The camera even showed the
inside of the oven as the cake baked. Once the cake was removed and
placed on a cooling rack, Mister Glass walked over to the cake, waved
his hand over it (he never used a wand) and two black rats chewed their
way out of the cake.

He would never tell any of us how his magic was done. He would just
smile in a way that seemed to take an age to travel from his eyes to
his mouth and say that some things were best left secret.

Mister Glass wouldn't change his style. As the audiences appeared to
him to become younger and younger and expected something different, his
regular shows turned into 'specials'; and then he faded from the
screen. I think he got money for the repeats, years later, when people
got nostalgic.

I stopped talking about him to other boys at school. It wasn't cool any
more to have an Uncle on television and it was embarrassing as he was
seen as a 'loser'.

His magic was, in truth, was as amazing as ever, but people wanted
something new. I hope my disillusion never showed, but sadly, there
isn't much you can hide when you're in your teens. I'd feel terrible if
he ever thought I was ashamed of him.

When he died, I wasn't there. I collected the newspaper cuttings and
kept them in a scrapbook. 'Mister Glass' had prepared special letters
which were delivered to each person at the funeral. He must have known
he hadn't much longer.

Each person kept the contents of their letter secret. My letter said '
I've never lied about magic. When you were seven, you really did fly
and that's something you should always treasure.' I don't remember how
it felt to swoop and glide. I only remember thinking, years later, 'oh,
I bet that's how he did it'.
So I don't know if I should believe him - I just have to choose.